


what’s he like?

by awesomedickbro



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, sex mentioned but nothing explicit, short thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomedickbro/pseuds/awesomedickbro
Summary: basically just ideas for stuff i wanted to include in other fics but didn’t know how to include, and i thought the idea was interesting. very fragmented writing so might be inconsistent. im bad at proof reading
Relationships: Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	what’s he like?

freddy looked down at the piece of paper. he had been asked to give whatever useful information he had about the guys on the job to holdaway. a few words for each of them was scribbled on the yellow legal pad. 

** pink - maybe new york? seems to has experience but not on something this scale before, never been inside **

** blonde - just out of prison, talked about texas a few times, familiar with joe and eddie **

** blue - ??? **

that sort of thing. 

but now freddy was at the last name on his list, mr. white. he rubbed a hand over his face, the words going fuzzy for a few seconds. he got up from his chair and flopped onto his couch, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling as he racked his brains for something to write...

-his name’s larry. presumably short for lawrence, but he didn’t say. he told freddy one night over a beer, and thankfully there was enough smoke in the bar to hide freddy’s expression before he was able to compose himself and tell him his own name.

-he was raised poor, and food waste really pisses him off. if they go to eat out, no matter how shitty the food is or how full he is, he’ll always finish it. if freddy ever has any left over he’ll encourage him to finish it, and do it himself if freddy can’t eat any more. he doesn’t say shit like that to the other guys though, and one time they all went out for lunch and larry couldn’t stop staring at the pickles brown had picked out of his burger. eventually freddy just leaned across the table and ate them himself. he fucking hates the things but larry smiled and relaxed a little next to him.

-he always distracts him when they’re watching TV. freddy will put on a show he likes and he’ll be telling him all about the actors and then larry gets bored. suddenly he’s in larry’s lap or he’s moved freddy’s hand up his thigh. then, by the time they’ve finished and they’re panting, the end credits are playing and they’ve missed the episode.

-he hates traffic more than anyone else freddy’s ever met. he gets more agitated than a cop with the siren on. he grumbles under his breath and seethes and drums his fingers against the wheel and does obscene hand gestures and yells. half the time freddy can’t stop himself from laughing. it’s only funny because he’s usually so calm and logical, and it’s not as if they’re in any rush. sometimes freddy will slip his cigarette into larry’s lips and hold one of his hands to chill him out. sometimes he’ll tell him: _“it’s 8:30 am, what do you expect?” “i’m fuckin’ hungry, we could be eating by now if people knew when to change lanes” “i have cereal at my place, we could have just had that” “no, that’s pencil shavings with sugar, we need a fuckin’ meal”_ and freddy would snicker and fiddle with the radio until the cars start moving again, smiling at larry’s grumbled _“finally”._

-motherfucker is staying at the hotel with the creakiest bed in the world. the first time he went over, freddy wanted to say that they should move to the couch or the floor or the wall or *anything* because the noise was bound to get them a noise complaint, but he couldn’t get the words out between his gasps. if he hadn’t been fucked so good he wouldn’t have been able to sleep that night, because the bed would make noise every either one of them shifted. they’ve both gotten used to it by now, like they’ve gotten used to that lady banging on the wall whenever they go at it and the bed sounds like it’s about to collapse.

-to make up for his bed, he has the most comfortable shoulders ever. the bump of muscle between the shoulder and the neck specifically, and freddy prefers the right one. it’s nice to rest his forehead on, or to drape his arm around the back, or sometimes something to just hold onto for support when he’s being kissed and slowly backed against a wall. freddy told him once when he was lying half on top of him, _“you got good shoulders”_ and larry couldn’t even think of a good response, just raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times before he muttered _“thanks”_ and carded his hand through freddy’s hair.

-he has a ritual of checking windows and doors before he goes to sleep, even at freddy’s place. maybe it’s because he was raised that way, or maybe it’s because he knows a building’s weak spots from an adolescence spent silently breaking into unsuspecting homes. either way, freddy just watches him flit between the rooms from where he’s sitting in bed, then pulls back the covers for larry when he comes back and starts stripping at the foot of the bed.

freddy got up off the coach, scribbled “ **history of b &e, knows LA well, good with two guns**” next to larry’s pseudonym and put the papers into the manila folder. that better be good enough for holdaway. he looked at the clock, realising larry was coming over in half an hour, so he hid the paperwork between the records on his shelf and got ready to quickly go to the video store to rent the shitty sequel of the shitty movie they had half-watched the week before.

* * *

when joe sat him down in his office and asked him “ _what’s the kid like then?_ ”, larry let out a long breath and searched around for something to say. he could have said something about how:

-his name’s freddy. he won’t allow any nicknames. larry jokingly tried ‘freddo’ once, and was shut down with a withering look that could have made even mr. brown shut his mouth. just freddy, no fred or frederick and definitely no freddo. _“that’s what my fuckin’ grandma used to call me, fuck off”_. the _‘ready, freddy?’_ line doesn’t play well either. though sometimes larry’s said that one accidentally.

-he’s got a strong tan line on the back of his neck where his tshirts have cut the sun off from his pale skin. he didn’t know he had it until he felt larry tracing his thumb over it for the 3rd night in a row and he mumbled with his face half-pressed into the pillow: _“‘t’s nice” “your skin’s real brown here” “yeah?” “yeah. same colour as your freckles” “huh. i’ve never seen the back of my neck”_ and larry had snorted with laughter and fallen asleep soon after, with his hand still on the back of freddy’s neck.

-the guy can’t get through a single episode of something without making a move. larry doesn’t know if he’s even aware that he does it so consistently. he’ll start out by saying _“that guy’s hot”_ or _“i used to jerk off to her when i was younger”_ , just to get a reaction, and larry rarely relents with one. then freddy will have his hand on the back of his neck, or on his thigh. then he’ll put his head on larry’s shoulder or put his feet in his lap, and larry rolls his eyes and pulls him on top of him. then the show’s ended and the commercials are starting and freddy acts like it was all larry’s fault. he’s usually seen the episode a hundred times already.

-he has these little figurines of comic book characters that he paints. anytime larry gets within a few feet of the table he gets ushered away from it, so he’s never seen exactly which characters they are. one of them is all silver though, and larry assumes it’s the guy from the poster on the wall. even with the poster, if freddy sees him looking at it, he’ll get all embarrassed and ask larry to come over to him or clear his throat and start talking about something to distract him.

-he can’t smoke without doing a few smoke rings. at first larry thought he was just showing off but over time he realised it was something he did every time he had a cigarette in his lips, like it’s a nervous tic or something. larry hasn’t mentioned it to him incase he gets self conscious of it and stops. he might have to have a word with him about doing it in public though, because more than once larry has been in the middle of saying something to joe or blue and he trails off his sentence because the guy’s on the other side of the table mouthing rings like a goldfish blowing bubbles and it’s fucking distracting.

-he’s heavier and stronger than he looks. his XL clothes don’t do him any favours either because he’s got strong shoulders and thick arms once you get him undressed. he doesn’t have vanity muscle, just the ones he needs to get the job done. he’s lithe and quick and if he wants to pin someone bigger than him against a door or against a bed, he can do it easily, knowing exactly where to apply his weight to keep someone where he wants them. not that larry would ever attempt to move away. _“you ever been searched by the cops? ‘cause it feels like this with less tongue”_ larry once said with his back pressed against his hotel door, not even open yet, just standing out in the hallway. freddy found that fucking hilarious and laughed directly into larry’s mouth as he fumbled with the hotel key in one hand and larry’s belt buckle with the other.

larry ashed his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the desk to buy time. _“he’s good. remembers details well. a little nervous but he knows the plan inside out, so he won’t be a problem”_. thankfully joe had another appointment after this so he didn’t press larry for more. he let himself out of the office a few minutes later and sped home to get the beers he had in his fridge for the two of them and change his shirt. 


End file.
